


caffeination / hallucination

by keelywolfe



Series: Coffee Nation [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Hallucinations, M/M, More Fluff, Sleep Deprivation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-02 20:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10227149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Robbie is very, very tired and needs to go to bed. Or at least that's what the figments of his imagination are telling him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am very, very tired. Robbie shares my pain.

* * *

In the end, it was the coffee that started it. Or really, the lack of coffee but either way coffee was involved with the end result. 

Robbie didn't even really like coffee. He did like caffeine, though, on those rare days when inspiration was driving him and coffee was an acceptable source once enough sugar had been added. 

Today he wasn't just inspired in his inventions, he was _inspired_ or maybe it was yesterday, it was hard to tell time underground, and Robbie had been awake for far too long. 

_"You're already queasy and exhausted; you don't need any more coffee."_

That was when he discovered some corner of his subconscious sounded a great deal like Sportacus. Worse, it looked like him too. 

"You're not really here," Robbie muttered. The coffee in the pot was hours old, burned as bitter and black as his soul. He poured it into a cup anyway, sniffing it warily. "You're a hallucination brought on by too much caffeine and not enough sleep."

 _"That is true,"_ the Sportacus figment agreed. He rolled over from his sprawl on the floor and propped his chin up on one hand. _"But I could be here."_

"Just stop. I don't need my subconscious haunting me with stupid ideas today." He did set aside the coffee, though. If it had been strong enough an hour ago to make him start seeing things, its current state might do something worse, like let him read minds or levitate or maybe just burn a hole through his esophagus. Better to not chance it. 

Not-Sportacus laughed. _"It's not stupid! Is it really so difficult to admit you want me here?"_

"I don't need to admit it because I don't."

 _"You can't fool me,"_ it said peaceably. _"You can only lie to yourself for so long. You need to admit what you want."_

"What I need is to get this finished and get some sleep." Robbie scooped up the large screwdriver on the end of the table and got back to work. It was a brilliant invention, he'd spent far too much time on it to let any figments of his imagination stop him now.

 _"If you say so,"_ Sportacus figment said doubtfully. _"But I think maybe you aren't going to have a choice."_

"What is that suppose to—ow!" Robbie yelped as the screwdriver slipped and gouged a nasty cut into his hand. He dropped the screwdriver and it clattered to the floor. Blood was already dripping down his wrist and he snatched up a relatively clean cloth to staunch the flow. "Ah, blast it."

It was a deep cut and looking at it made Robbie feel woozy. Woozier. He shook his head determinedly and kept pressure on it. Passing out and bleeding freely onto the floor was not a good option. 

"Robbie!" 

For one wild, exhausted moment, Robbie thought his hallucination had come to life and was suddenly in front of him with a flashing booby crystal leading the way. The hands that grabbed his bleeding one felt surprisingly real, one circling his wrist to keep him from jerking away and the other taking control of the rapidly-soaking cloth. 

It was strange, surreal, to see Sportacus in his bunker. His attention was completely on Robbie's hand, the heel of his palm pressing firmly to stem the still-trickling blood, and Robbie could do nothing but stare at him. His eyes felt dry and grainy, his knees wobbling and Sportacus was here. Maybe. Probably he was real. All blue eyes and blue uniform and blue hat, his crystal silent but still flickering. He was here and Robbie was tired, his hand a dull throb, and his brain seemed on the verge of making decisions on its own. 

"Come on." Sportacus peeled back the cloth and inspected the cut. "That looks bad. We need to clean it and get it bandaged."

"I think I'm in love with you," Robbie blurted. 

Ah. Well.

Robbie closed his own eyes in some feeble hope of self-preservation. If he didn't look, then maybe Sportacus would go away and let him exsanguinate in peace or maybe even dissolve back into the hallucination Robbie hoped he was. The pressure on his hand didn't change but the pain and numbness was starting to filter through the humiliation and finally, Robbie opened his eyes again, braced against whatever was waiting for him. 

Sportacus was looking up at him dumbly with shocked, wide eyes, mouth hanging open. Closed his mouth, opened it again, and finally looked away. Color was high in his cheeks, bright pink and flustered. 

Well, if he'd ever wanted to chase Sportacus away, he seemed to have found the key. All he had to do was make exhaustion-induced announcements against his own will while bleeding half to death in the middle of the night. Or day, Robbie really didn't have a clue what time it was. 

The silence was so thick Robbie could have cut it into slices and served it for an awkward dessert when Sportacus finally cleared his throat and spoke.

"I don't know what to say," Sportacus admitted.

"You don’t have to say anything," Robbie told him immediately. "I didn't even mean to tell you, only you're too damn convincing and you're right, I can't keep lying to myself, and you wouldn't let me have more coffee."

Sportacus squinted at him. "I don't think I understood much of that but I have to say, I agree with you not having more coffee." He was still gripping Robbie's wrist and gave him a light tug. "I don’t think this is too bad. Let's take care of your hand. Where is your first aid kit?" 

The fact that Robbie had a first aid kit probably surprised no one. With his tendency towards injury, he generally bought in bulk. Sportacus sat him down and bandaged his hand with all the expertise of someone who'd taken a two-week course in first aid training at a community college. Maybe he had, how was Robbie to know, he hadn't dropped from nowhere into Lazytown fully formed and shaped into the flippeting Elf he was now. 

"No, I didn't," Sportacus agreed, which meant Robbie was still saying things aloud when he didn’t mean to be, blast it all. "I was born and had parents, and I learned first aid from my mother. She was very good at first aid, amongst other things."

"She sounds nice." Robbie flexed his hand a bit, testing the bandage and of course it had the perfect tension. Of course it did. 

"Yes, I think she was," Sportacus said wryly. He slid an arm around and urged Robbie to stand. "Come on, I think you need some sleep."

He managed to get to his feet with a few wobbles. Lack of coffee and blood loss had drained the last of his will. He allowed Sportacus to settle him into his own chair and even cover him with his blanket, tucking it carefully around him. 

"I'm sorry I love you," Robbie slurred, already drifting.

"Don't be sorry, Robbie," A hand gently stroked Robbie's hair back from his forehead even though it was lank and oily from too long without a shower. "Can you do something for me?"

"Maybe."

"Get some sleep and tell me again tomorrow, all right?"

"Mmhmm.

"Robbie." Sharply, and it woke him up a little. "Please. If you mean it, tell me again tomorrow."

"Yes, yes," Robbie said irritably. 

"Promise?"

Robbie managed a feeble cross over his heart and that seemed to satisfy. 

_"See? You can't lie to yourself forever."_

Robbie slit opened his eyes, let his gaze linger on the other Sportacus, the figment, the one who looked smug. "I might have."

"Robbie, go to sleep," Firmly, the real Sportacus, really real and really here, tucked the blanket in a little firmer. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Talk, about feelings, probably, emotions and love, all the disgusting, tender sentiment that was sneaking past his decaffeinated brain. Robbie let his eyes drift back shut and felt a thumb stroke his cheek, very gently, and thought maybe, maybe, that would be all right.

So long as he got a cup of coffee beforehand. 

-tbc-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best part of waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People seemed to want a second chapter to this one. I can do that. :)

* * *

Robbie wasn't certain what time it was when he finally woke, but since he had no idea what time he'd gone to sleep, it wasn't a particular concern of his. What was a concern was his dry throat and his aching head, caffeine deprivation already warming up a lovely headache to throb at his temples. 

Any attempt at brewing a pot on his machine was met with gurgling disappointment and a burning smell, which meant if Robbie wanted coffee he would need to go out, which was…not really what he wanted to do today. Not with his memory of yesterday rattling around alongside his headache. It was like a nightmare come to life and Robbie shuddered, remembering. He'd actually said…he'd actually _told_ Sportacus…

Well. There it was, anyway. Really, it would be all right in the end. All he had to do was avoid Sportacus for the rest of his natural life and everything would be fine. And also get coffee. Which was outside. 

The glaring sunlight made him want to hiss and leap back into the cool depths of his bunker. The temptation increased when Robbie could see who was waiting for him at the base of the ladder though it did validate his belief that the universe had it out for him. 

"Good afternoon, Robbie," Sportacus said, easily. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the hatch. With a sigh, Robbie gave up on the idea of simply dropping back down and locking the blasted door, and instead climbed out. 

It was only when he got to the ground that he noticed Sportacus was holding two paper cups from the local coffee shop. He held one out to Robbie invitingly. 

Robbie took it with equal parts trepidation and relief. "What is it?

"A caramel macchiato, venti, three pump, extra shot, extra-hot, extra-whip," Sportacus told him, making a face. He looked faintly green, "Please don't make me say it again."

"That's what I always get." Robbie took off the lid and inhaled the rich fragrance of perfect coffee.

"I know, I asked the barista." He took a sip from his own cup, side-eyeing Robbie's coffee as though afraid it might leap right from the cup and attack with sugary vengeance.

"What are you even drinking?" Robbie couldn't help asking. He would have thought just walking into a hipster coffee shop would send Sportacus to the floor in a coma.

"Green tea. It's –"

"—good for you," they finished in unison. Sportacus gave him a faint smile, a far cry from his normal grin, but he did pat the ground next to him. Then he did again, until Robbie grudgingly sat. 

"Did you sleep well?"

"As well as I ever do," Robbie sighed. "I appreciate the coffee but can we skip the small talk? We both know why you're here."

"We do," Sportacus agreed. "How is your hand?"

"My ha—my hand is fine! You…you did a good job, but—"

"Robbie," Sportacus interrupted gently and Robbie fell silent. He stared into his coffee cup at the dwindling peak of whipped cream so intently that a touch at his ankle made him startle. He blinked down at Sportacus's hand wrapped firmly around his ankle, holding on.

"What are you—"

"Robbie, I don't love you."

Oh. Oh, well that was…that was exactly what Robbie had expected. He'd known it, hadn’t he, whatever his subconscious had tried to convince him of was nothing more than wishful thinking and exhaustion-induced hallucinations.

Carefully, he fitted his coffee lid back on the cup with the same precision required for disarming a bomb. He tried to stand. He couldn't sit here and listen to this, he couldn't, he needed to get back into his bunker where it was cool and dark and safe, and work on his latest project and he could think about schematics and hydraulics and nothing else. He _tried_ to stand, but Sportacus kept his grip on Robbie's ankle, holding him down. 

"Please don't leave, let me finish," Sportacus took a deep breath, "I don't love you, I never thought of you that way before last night and I never suspected that you might feel that way about me."

"You've put a lot of thought into this speech, haven't you," Robbie snapped, cringing as his voice broke. He was not going to cry about this, blast it, wailing like some pathetic child. He'd known the truth from the beginning.

"I did, I've been up since dawn and you need to listen," Sportacus insisted. "I didn't think that way about you. It does not mean that I couldn't." He bit his lip. "I'm not sure. I wanted to be your friend but you were always…I didn't think you wanted that."

"I wanted you to leave," Robbie said hoarsely. 

Sportacus exhaled slowly. "Yes. That's what you wanted. I don't…I don't understand how that fits with you loving me."

"If you left then…you'd be gone. And I wouldn't have to see you every day and know—" Robbie swallowed hard. "I wouldn't have to deal with any of this." He sighed. "You can let me go, I'm not going to go sprinting off. There's no point to it, I can't possibly get more humiliated than I am now."

"You wanted me to leave because you love me too much for me to stay?" Sportacus sounded strange and Robbie stared, dumbfounded, as he started to laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle it, but little puffs of breath and chuckles still escaped. 

"Okay, maybe it can get worse," Robbie muttered. His stomach twisted and if it weren't for Sportacus's continued hold on his ankle, he _would_ have sprinted away, perhaps left Lazytown himself just so he didn't have to hear this.

"No, no," Sportacus tried to stop. "No, please, I'm not laughing at you, I swear, I just—no one has ever done anything like that for me before." His eyes were bright with amusement. "I think that is the most ridiculous, romantic thing I have ever heard. You've been trying to chase me out of town because you love me." He gave Robbie a nudge with his elbow. "I bet if I had pigtails, you would have given them a pull."

"You are laughing at me," Robbie hissed. There was still an aching twinge lingering in his gut.

"I'm really not," Sportacus took a sip of his tea, "But now I believe you."

"You…believe me?"

"Robbie, you told me you loved me while you were bleeding and so sleep deprived that you could barely stand!" Sportacus said, exasperated. "You might have told the Mayor you loved him at that point. Why do you think I told you to tell me again today?"

"I haven't told you today."

"No, you haven't."

There was a long moment of silence, both of them studying their cups as though the secrets of the universe had been printed on them alongside the coffee shop logo. 

Well, it wasn't like he had much heart left to be broken. Robbie muttered, "What the hell," then louder. "I think I am in love with you."

Sportacus gave him a shy smile. "I hope so."

Carefully, he took away Robbie's cup and set them both aside. Robbie barely had time for a questioning look before Sportacus leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. Robbie was certain he heard a thin whimper, even more certain he was the one who made it. He reached up and took a frantic hold on Sportacus's shoulders, kissing him back. It was awkward and graceless, a little too hard, and everything Robbie had ever wanted in a kiss. Sportacus tasted like bitter tea and his mouth was hot and wonderful, his warm hands cupping Robbie's face.

When he drew back his eyes were dazed, hazy blue. Sportacus whispered, "You taste sweet." 

"Sorry?"

"I'm not," Sportacus stood and stretched, looking out into the farmlands past the billboard, out of Lazytown.

"I'm not sure what we resolved here," Robbie admitted. "Are we…do you…?"

"I think…maybe. Give me time?" Sportacus asked. His mouth twisted up in a lopsided smile. "Maybe don't chase me out of town in the meantime?" 

"I can try."

"Good," Sportacus stooped and retrieved their cups, handing Robbie's to him with a wrinkled nose. "Try not to drink more than two of those today?"

"I can't make that promise," Robbie said dryly and Sportacus laughed.

"I'll see you soon," Sportacus told him and it sounded like a promise of his own. Robbie watched him as he dashed off, waving, not even waiting for the possibility of Robbie saying goodbye. He managed a quick flip and a cartwheel without even putting down his cup and Robbie sighed.

"Green tea, ugh," he muttered, and took a sip of his own coffee, already too-cool and thickening to almost syrup. He drank it anyway, savored it, the first caffeine of his day and his first coffee from Sportacus ever. 

His subconscious didn't comment on the matter. 

-tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie can't sleep.

* * *

It might have been a new moon tonight or maybe a crescent one. Robbie didn't really know. Astronomy wasn't really his strength and it wouldn't have matter either way because it was a gloomy, overcast night and whatever moon there was wouldn't have been able to creep through the clouds. 

Robbie didn't really mind. He knew Lazytown better than anyone and he could navigate its quiet streets no matter what hour of night it was. Not that he was certain what the hour was and that didn't matter either. All Robbie knew was that he could not sleep and at some point his bunker had become suffocating, its normal safe walls felt claustrophobic and he'd fled outside where the air was chilly, where he could _breathe_. 

Breathe, yes, breathe and think. There was no point in trying not to think, Robbie knew, on nights like this when he couldn't sleep, those thoughts would creep back in no matter what distractions he tried. May as well just let them linger, looping around in his thoughts in mindless circles. 

Robbie settled down on a bench, rubbed his eyes tiredly. Besides, it wasn't like he _minded_ thinking about what had been sticking in his mind lately. Sportacus had been circular in his thoughts since he'd come to Lazytown, only now Robbie had been allowed a different way of thinking about him. Something better, maybe. Hopefully. 

He and Sportacus had been doing…well, _something_ for the past couple days. Robbie was hesitant to call it dating, that was a word fraught with peril and to Robbie's mind it implied candlelight dinners and elegance. There was nothing elegant at all about whatever this was. 

So far, Robbie had spent an afternoon watching Sportacus playing football with the children. He had little interest in the sport but plenty in watching Sportacus play it. In turn, Sportacus had willingly joined Robbie in his bunker for a movie and pizza. He'd had a thin-crust, lo-cal veggie pizza in place of the meat-lover that Robbie had, but at least he'd eaten it with evident enjoyment. 

Robbie drew his legs up onto the bench and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. That had been…nice. It had been nice and ordinary, and before Sportacus had left for the night he'd given Robbie a kiss every bit as aching and tooth-rottenly sweet as the sugar he couldn't eat. 

Nice and normal, not something Robbie excelled in. 

Point in fact, he was sitting on a bench in the middle of the night, close to shivering and painfully awake. He couldn't sleep and he couldn't work, not with his mind tired and twisted around. He couldn't. Robbie looked up at the sky, dreary and overcast, so dazed in exhaustion he didn't even hear someone approaching until they sat on the bench next to him. 

Sportacus was sitting next to him, with two paper cups. Or maybe he was there, probably it wasn't a hallucination. Robbie gave him a poke just to be sure, prodding his shoulder.

"Ow," Sportacus said dryly. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you're real."

He frowned. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

"If you weren't real, how would I know if you were telling me the truth?" Robbie said reasonably. 

"Fair enough. Here," Sportacus handed him one of the cups. "Something to keep you warm."

"Thanks," Robbie mumbled. He held the cup in his chilly hands, greedily soaking in the heat. He took a quick sip, grimacing at his burnt tongue and the flavor, sweet and plain, corner store coffee. "What are you doing here? Your little crystal tell you I was in trouble?"

"No," Sportacus took a sip from his cup and made a face of his own. "Lipton tea is awful."

"That it is."

They drank in silence for a time, hissing over too-hot sips and not quite shivering in the cool air. Or at least Robbie wasn't, Sportacus didn't seem to notice the chill. 

"I can't sleep," Robbie said suddenly, into the quiet air. He looked up at the sky, cloudy and overcast. "I don't even know why."

Sportacus hummed softly. He took Robbie's free hand with his own, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles. His hand was warm. 

"Why are you here?" Robbie asked plaintively. 

Sportacus shrugged. "I'm keeping you company, because you can't sleep."

"Okay," Robbie mumbled, "How did you know I was here?"

He smiled. "I suppose I could tell you something about mystical abilities or telepathy. You're so tired I think you'd believe me." Sportacus shook his head. "It's almost dawn, Robbie. I was looking around town with my telescope and I saw you."

"Oh," Robbie slumped down. 

A soft laugh, "I hope I didn't disappoint you."

"No, no, I…it's…good. I'm glad you’re here."

Sportacus drained the last of his cup and tossed it into the nearby trash can without looking. "Here, let me?"

He settled an arm around Robbie's shoulders, tugging him in until Robbie rested his head against his shoulder. It was awkward and comfortable at the same time and Robbie burrowed in, a little, sighing as Sportacus rested his cheek against the top of Robbie's head. 

"You're really just going to sit here with me?"

"Of course I am," he sounded vaguely insulted. "Why wouldn't I sit with you if you needed me?"

Robbie chose not to answer that; better not to, if he started listing the reasons, he might not be able to stop. He could almost feel Sportacus taking his own meaning from the lack of answer, a subtle stiffening to his posture, before he rescued the forgotten coffee cup from Robbie's increasingly lax grip. He nestled his cheek against Robbie's hair and hummed softly, more vibration than sound and almost tuneless, matching the light breeze ghosting over them. 

The sun crested the horizon just as Robbie slowly slid downward, eased by Sportacus's careful hands, until his head was resting on Sportacus's thigh. Asleep, he was mostly unaware of a gentle hand carding through his hair, smoothing down his cheek. 

His dreams were unremarkable; they only felt safe and when Robbie woke, far later than he would have thought, Sportacus was still there, still watching over him, and he wouldn't remember his dreams. 

But he wouldn't forget that night. 

-finis-


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Can Robbie come out and play?_

* * *

It wasn't that Robbie didn't want to see Sportacus. To be honest, the opposite was true. Most of the time, he wanted to see him a little too much. Watch him do those ridiculous flips and jumps while Robbie hid in the shrubbery and foliage to just stare, all while silently convincing himself that this time, this time would be the time he finally managed to chase him out of town and out of his head. 

Well, that was true last week, anyway. This week the world had turned slantways and now they were…whatever. Something that allowed Robbie to not just look, but touch, a little, Sportacus had proven himself completely unselfconscious and was perfectly happy to hold Robbie's hand in public. Not that Robbie thought anyone would say a peep to _Sportacus_ about it. There wasn't a person in town that wouldn't wither under A Very Disappointed look from him followed with one of his oh, so gentle lectures and so Robbie was allowed to date the local hero without much fanfare. 

Anyway, what was he on about?

Right, it wasn't that Robbie didn't want to see Sportacus, but sometimes he got caught up in his work. All too often an idea trickled in and when he resurfaced it was suddenly far past midnight and the day had escaped from him. He wanted to say he could change that but it was probably best not to start this with lying to either of them. What could he say, Robbie was focused. 

Which was why the paper airplane that hit him in the middle of the back during this particular mental submersion nearly made him jump out of his skin. 

"What on earth—" Robbie muttered, his focus maybe not shattered but at least cracked. He scooped up the little airplane and opened it. There, in an untidy scrawl, was a single sentence.

_Can Robbie come out and play?_

It took a minute for him to connect the dots. Sportacus was asking him to come out for some reason. Some game with the children he thought he could persuade Robbie to join? Maybe they were, ugh, building something and Sportacus needed a hand? Whatever it was, it was sure to involve effort and probably those brats that Sportacus was so fond of. 

It sounded about as enjoyable as a double root canal. 

Robbie looked at the clock with tired eyes, still early afternoon, then back to his work, unfinished, the schematic sitting temptingly right in front of him, begging for just a little more from him. He sighed. 

This caring about someone else was really aggravating.

* * *

Sportacus wasn't with the kids. 

They were easy enough to find, the herd of them loud and laughing at the basketball hoops and they had all greeted him with painful enthusiasm before chorusing that they didn't know where Sportacus was. 

At a loss, Robbie unfolded the now-crumpled airplane but no, there weren't any instructions or directions, just that one sentence so where was he supposed to be--

"Robbie!" 

Oh. 

Further into the park, beneath one of the large shady oaks was a blanket scattered with a few natty pillows. A picnic basket was sitting invitingly at one corner and, more invitingly, Sportacus was sitting in the middle, smiling and waving and…yes. Robbie wanted that, he wanted all of that. 

"You're inviting me to a picnic?" Robbie said as he strolled up, a touch wonderingly. 

Sportacus laughed. "I like picnics! You can sit outside in the fresh air with your lunch. Besides, sometimes you like to nap around this time so I brought you pillows."

Which…was true, but Robbie wasn't sure when Sportacus noticed it. 

"That's…that was…" Say _thank you_ , Robbie told himself, fiercely, it wasn't that hard. He didn't have a chance to unpry his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Sportacus was tugging him down to sit, urging him to relax back into the pillows. 

"I do have good ideas," Sportacus preened. From beside the basket, he brought out a small plastic cup with a domed lid and a straw and promptly deposited into Robbie's hand. 

A frappuccino, which sounded perfectly lovely in the warmth of the day. Robbie took a sip and wasn't even surprised that it was caramel mocha, his favorite. "You've gotten into the habit lately of providing me with caffeination. It's strange but I'd like to encourage this impulse."

Sportacus rolled his eyes. "You're going to get it anyway. At least if I get it I can control the size, the shots, and the sugar."

"Fair enough," Robbie muttered. Between the pillows and the midday warmth, he was already a little sleepy, his sleep deficit from last night catching up to him. He slid into drowsing as Sportacus chattered next to him about unimportant things and it was…nice. To just sit here and listen, and he didn't notice when Sportacus rescued the cup from him and set it back into the little ice basin. Robbie didn't notice anything until sometime later when he blinked his way back to wakefulness. He started to sit up automatically, froze when Sportacus spoke. 

"Don't move, I'm not done yet."

That sounded faintly ominous. Warily, Robbie opened an eye to peer over in the direction that voice had come from. Only to find Sportacus sitting with a pad of paper, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth and a pencil moving furiously.

"Are you…drawing?"

"Yes. Don't move."

It was no little temptation to ignore that order and scramble away, maybe even wrap up in the blanket so no part of him was visible. Instead, Robbie reluctantly obeyed. He kept his eyes open, though, there were limits. 

"So you're an artist, too?" Robbie asked. Because of course he would be, wouldn't he.

"Something like that," Sportacus said agreeably. 

"Is there anything you aren't good at?" Robbie asked, resigned.

Silence.

"Sportacus?"

"Hold on, I'm thinking."

"Oh, you're hilarious. You're a lot sassier once a person gets to know you better."

"Do you think so?" Sportacus said with every bit of innocence that Robbie was learning he didn't possess. "Hmm, I've never tried curling. I've never tried making a soufflé …I suppose I might not be good at those."

"Please stop making this worse."

"You were the one who asked," Sportacus pointed out. He finished with a flourish, snapping the drawing pad closed. "There, now you can move. Do you want lunch now, I went to the deli, I didn't think you'd want what I—"

"Give me that," Robbie demanded, already trying to snag the pad away from him. Which was not a success, at all, because he was taller than Sportacus and that was exactly the only strength he had against him. In particular, Sportacus was terrifyingly flexible and even if Robbie could have twisted his back like that, which he couldn't, not without elective surgery, he still couldn't have grabbed the drawing pad. 

"No, you don't get to see it," Sportacus gave him a pointed look. "You made fun of me."

"I did not!" Robbie lunged for the paper again. "I asked a perfectly reasonable question. Don't blame me because you've never tried curling."

In the end, Robbie won by cheating, as Sportacus called it later, or as Robbie called it, a perfectly legitimate tactic involving tickling his opponent until he couldn't breathe and dropped the pad. 

If a person couldn't be stronger, sneakier would have to do.

Robbie snatched up the drawing pad and retreated to the far end of the blanket, flipping through pages until he found it. He studied it for a long moment, turned it upside down and studied it more. At last he looked up.

"This is the worst drawing I have ever seen," Robbie accused, and he was laughing, he couldn't help laughing. "Kindergartners do better than this. You could have done better if you'd just closed your eyes and scribbled on the page. What IS this?"

Sportacus's laughter ruined his attempt at a wounded look and he finally managed to snatch the paper back, "I never said I was good at drawing, you just assumed it!

"I thought if you were drawing it must be something you can do!" Certainly he'd expected better than the weird stick figure hippo that he'd seen. It brought new meaning to the phrase 'draw me like one of your french girls'.

"Maybe I'm learning," Sportacus said loftily, but he tossed the drawing pad aside carelessly, rolling until he was lying across the blanket with his head in Robbie's lap. "Did you want lunch now?"

"Maybe…not yet," Robbie said. Sportacus was still wearing that ridiculous hat with the silly goggles and Robbie tugged at it with trepidation, then when Sportacus didn't protest, a little firmer, pulling it off. Blond hair in soft curls spilled out over his thigh, silky-soft when Robbie hesitantly combed his fingers through it. 

"Happy now?" Sportacus asked, amused, but his eyes were half-shut and he sighed a little when Robbie did it again. 

"Yes," Robbie said, softly, and Sportacus wouldn't, couldn't know that he meant more than just this afternoon. 

A week ago, he had thought he'd been in love but this, this person he was getting to know, was so much better.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night, take two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating on this chapter is going to raise the story from General to Teen.

* * *

It was something of a novelty for Robbie to have someone rapping on his hatch, asking to come in, in that it had only happened one other time. A few nights ago, Sportacus had come to his bunker and joined him for pizza and a movie, a…date, all right, he could call it that. He was allowed. 

He was also allowed to be nervous, still, inviting Sportacus in. After their impromptu picnic, Robbie had asked Sportacus over tonight, before he could get reabsorbed into his work. Another meal and another movie, simple and normal, he could do this. It had been worth asking, to see Sportacus's eyes light up, his pure delight in being asked and maybe Robbie didn't send out paper airplanes and back flips but he could offer this. His home, his sanctuary, this he could share. 

There was, however, one small change from their first date. 

"You said you wanted to bring dinner?" Robbie asked, reluctantly curious. He'd spent most of the day steeling himself to eat whatever it was that Sportacus had brought and blast it, if he had to choke his way through some sort of wheat grass and Brussels sprout concoction, he would do it. 

"I did!" Sportacus gave him a bright smile, holding up a collection of cloth groceries bags. He set them down on the table that Robbie had cleared off, all his tools and inventions set carefully aside and covered in drop clothes. Inside the bags were a number of plain white, waxed containers and Robbie frowned in recognition. 

"Is it…Chinese food?" he asked tentatively. 

Instead of answering, Sportacus opened one of the containers to reveal what looked like sweet and sour chicken, another held rice. 

"You made your own Chinese takeaway?"

"Yes?" Sportacus said, suddenly uncertain. "I can't eat normal takeaway...is that okay?"

Robbie couldn't help a snort. Because it would be better to allow the idiot to poison himself in the name of a date? "It's fine, Sportadork."

He relaxed, relieved. "It's better for you, too, no artificial flavors, no MSG…"

"Better for me…is this why you want to try…being with me?" Robbie asked bluntly. "So you can take care of me?" Dread of the answer was hanging thick in his belly, almost curdled to nausea. It wasn't the first time he'd had that thought and he wasn't sure he wanted an answer. 

To his credit, Sportacus didn't brush him off or bluster out a hot denial. Instead, he seemed to consider it a moment, eyes lowered thoughtfully. 

"No, I don't think so," he said slowly. "I like taking care of people, that is true, but. No," he said decisively. He smiled and the softness to it, almost shy, made Robbie chest feel tight. "I want to take care of you _because_ I like you. Liking you isn't a side effect."

They weren't quite at the stage where either one of them could just kiss the other without fanfare, a casual peck of affection for whatever reason, but Robbie could have run a marathon easier than he could have stopped himself from kissing that soft, sweet smile in that moment. 

Sportacus leaned into it eagerly, and when Robbie tried to pull back, he rose a little on his toes, chasing Robbie's mouth for a second one. They lingered there, Sportacus leaning up into him, his hands settled against Robbie's sides warm and tentative. Finally, they drew apart. Sportacus wet his lips and spoke. 

"Let's eat before it gets cold," he said huskily. 

A little dumbly, Robbie nodded, forcing his hands to let go so that Sportacus could step back to his dishes and begin loading the plates. 

It was good. The chicken was a more delicate orange than normal and instead of cloyingly sweet, it was more subtle. Probably Sportacus used ant nectar or something else weird. Robbie didn't ask. To his eyes Sportacus had mostly steamed vegetables and rice but Robbie wasn't about to judge. He earned bonus points for the gleaming silver thermos still hidden away in the second bag and if Sportacus had made that coffee along with the food, well, Robbie was never going to have hipster coffee again. Perfectly sweet, perfectly hot, and how Sportacus managed it without being able to taste it was a mystery for the ages. 

Afterward, with the dishes soaking in the sink, it was up to Robbie to choose a movie. Sportacus hadn't seen many which was a _travesty_ so Robbie picked Star Wars: a New Hope because everyone needed to see it at least once. The pop culture references alone made it a requirement. 

Last time they'd sat on the floor together, nearly a foot apart and just on the edge of awkward. This time Sportacus seemed interested to see how well two grown men could fit in one orange recliner with a blanket tucked around them. The answer turned out to be fairly well if one of them didn't mind nearly being in the other's lap. Neither of them minded.

Having him so close was a horrible tease, but Sportacus was obviously riveted by the movie and that was lovely to watch, too. There was a certain primitive joy, some deep, satisfying, primal emotion in having another person enjoy something that was precious to you. Robbie hardly paid attention to the movie even though it was one of his favorites, distracted by the warmth of Sportacus against him, by his wide eyes and gasps at the best scenes, and the memory of that kiss. When the credits rolled, Sportacus sighed deeply and sank back into the chair.

"You were right, that was a wonderful film."

Robbie swallowed, a touch thickly, "There are more."

Their faces seemed very close together, both of them on their sides in the barely large enough chair. This close he could see how deeply blue Sportacus's eyes were, the wet shine of his lips as his tongue flicked out over them. 

"This is our third date," Sportacus said solemnly. 

"Yee...ess?"

"I have the internet. I know what happens on third dates."

Uh. Robbie blinked a little, parsing that. "To begin with, it doesn't have to happen and it's not our third date anyway. It's the fourth."

Sportacus frowned and Robbie wished he didn't find that little wrinkle between his eyes so adorable. "No, it isn't. We saw a movie first, then we had a picnic, and now we've seen a movie again. Three."

"Before the movie, I watched you playing football with the kids."

"You can't count that, you weren't even playing!"

"I can count it if I want," Robbie said decisively. "I can count that first night when I cut my hand and make it five. Or that night you brought me coffee. Six"

"That was not a date!" Sportacus sat up, radiating indignation, "You can't count every time we are in a room together as a date."

"Are you going to stop me?"

Sportacus made a frustrated noise. "Fine, you can call it six! But if it's six dates, then we are running behind."

"What do you—" _mean_ , Robbie meant to say, but the word was captured in a kiss. 

Oh. _Oh_. 

Sportacus kissed like he did everything, earnest and careful, and he made a soft noise when Robbie deepened it. Let his tongue flick against Sportacus's, slow, wet pressure of their mouths together. 

His hands found their way to Sportacus's shoulders and Robbie could feel muscles bunched under his shirt, the way they rippled and shifted as Sportacus's wrapped his arms around Robbie and pulled him in closer, until they were pressed together, almost too warm beneath the smoggy heat of his blanket.

He clung harder, his fingers twisting into Sportacus's shirt as he broke the kiss, his mouth wet and searing as Sportacus mouthed a path to Robbie's ear, sucking wetly on the lobe until Robbie couldn't help a shudder.

"Do you like that?" Sportacus whispered and his breath was cool against damp skin. "Is this all right?"

All right? All right was the grossest of understatements. Robbie pulled harder at Sportacus's shoulders, trying to get his mouth back on him and he went willingly. His knee nudged its way between Robbie's thighs, easing his legs apart and Robbie arched up into the pressure, a whimper catching in his throat. 

"Robbie?" His name had never sounded like that, a little choked and catching on quickening breathes. "Is this…you're trembling."

"Don't stop," Robbie blurted, suddenly seized with the fear that Sportacus would. That somehow he would take Robbie's desperate grip and his graceless fumbling as a sign of unwillingness. A hand slid down to Robbie's hip, rubbing soothing circles against it even as it eased inward and Robbie turned his head blindly, he wanted another kiss, he wanted that hand exactly where it was stealthy creeping, he wanted--

The suddenly light and noise of Sportacus's crystal going off was deafening. Robbie barely had time to even register what that horrible racket was before Sportacus was on his feet, already a half step away from him. 

Sportacus actually hesitated, his eyes darting from the tangle of Robbie and the blanket in the chair to the hatch. 

"Go, go," Robbie urged, flapping a hand at him. "Someone's in trouble."

Another hesitation, almost too brief to be noticeable, and Sportacus was backing away, turning and darting towards the ladder. "Robbie?" he called out, already halfway up. "I really like you." Then he was gone, off to save whatever fool needed saving.

Robbie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shifting gingerly to lie back in his chair. Well, that had been. Something. Yeah. He breathed, slowly, until the desperate ache in certain parts of his body eased to something manageable.

Softly, he said to the empty room. "I really like you, too."

-tbc-


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining and someone is tap, tap, tapping on Robbie's door.

* * *

After their third/sixth date interruption, Robbie didn't really expect Sportacus to come back. Despite what he'd read on the internet -- and Robbie was more than a little wary and reluctantly curious to see just what Sportacus had been googling -- he didn't see Sportacus of all people returning and demanding that Robbie put out. Certainly not after 8:08.

Not that Robbie would have said no…

Better not to think of it. After Sportacus left, Robbie went around and jerked the drop clothes off all his work. Inventing was good for all kinds of stress and soon enough he was immersed again in his work and not worrying at all about strange internet forums and dates. 

Hours melted away and Robbie kept it up. At some point he distantly grew aware that it was raining. His bunker was lined with drains, funneling the water downward into the ground rather than flooding him out and to him, the low gurgle of running water all around him was like a soothing musical counterpoint. 

With the noise from his welding and the gushing drains mixed in with his intense focus, it took some time for him to notice an additional sound, one that didn't match what he was doing. 

Frowning, Robbie pushed his goggles up, head tilted as he listened. 

There, a strange gonging sound. Almost like…knocking? But there was only one person in Lazytown who would be knocking at his hatch and at a half past three, it was far past bedtime of a normal person, never mind Sportacus, and not even close to dawn.

Again, _bong bong bong_ , as regular as a distant grandfather clock. 

Robbie set aside his welding torch and went to the ladder.

He lifted the hatch cautiously, not wanted to send a deluge of water down it. Sportacus was crouched on the top of the ladder in a way that only he could have managed. Even in the dimness, Robbie saw with some astonishment that he was obviously soaked to the skin, water dripping from his chin. His eyes were stark in his pale face, his lashes wet and spiky. Even his mustache was drooping.

He sneezed, jolting Robbie from his trance, "Can I come in?"

And really, that had never been in question.

* * *

"Stay here," Robbie ordered, and Sportacus obeyed, standing shivering and dripping in the middle of the room, away from any furniture or inventions. As quickly as he could, Robbie gathered up an armful of towels, stopping to order up a pair of pajamas from his clothing archive. 

"I can't say they'll fit well," Robbie told Sportacus even as he swathed him in fluffy towels. "But they'll be better than drenched clothes." It was possible Sportacus agreed with him but it was difficult to tell through his chattering teeth. "Get changed, I'll get you something hot to drink, hmm?"

Robbie turned away. Somewhere in his mind he'd fully expected Sportacus to go finish drying and change in the bathroom. So the sound of wet fabric hitting the floor heavily made him freeze, spine stiffening and Robbie swallowed hard. Either Sportacus wasn't the modest type or he was taking Robbie's admonishment not to move far more seriously than Robbie had intended it. 

A drink, right, he could do that. He owed Sportacus that much for various offerings of coffee and the man was obviously chilled to the bone. Focusing on using his newest creation, a simple hot kettle, helped take some of the attention off the fact that Sportacus was very likely naked behind him. 

"Tea," Robbie muttered to himself, almost a mental chant. "Tea. Chamomile." Very recently purchased from the same local coffee shop Sportacus had braved for him. Loose leaf because the barista knew a fool when she saw one and had been able to convince him that the flavor was better, which had led her to coaxing him into buying a strainer as well. So much effort just to marinade some leaves in hot water but Robbie would be damned if he was going to let Sportacus win the beverage war. 

It didn't even look appetizing, just sort of a weak brown and it smelled like flowers. Which probably meant that Sportacus would think it was perfect. The sounds of rustling cloth had stopped behind him and Robbie took a deep breath and picked up both cups, weak flower tea for Sportacus and his own faintly scorched late night coffee. He turned around and it was with great relief alongside a sliver of disappointment that he saw Sportacus was in his pajamas. 

Purple was a flattering color for him, Robbie decided, a little helplessly. They were a little tight in the shoulders and rolled up several times at the ankles and wrists. Robbie tried not to notice how adorable that was; Sportacus wasn't precisely short and Robbie _was_ exactly tall, and the sight of Sportacus swimming in his clothes was enticing in ways he didn't need to think about right now. His feet were bare, toes curled against the chill of the floor and Robbie clucked his tongue. 

"Sit in the chair, sit, sit," he scolded, and Sportacus obeyed him silently, curled into the corner with his legs tucked under him. He took the cup that Robbie offered him, both hands curled around the mug. 

There was space for him in the chair and perhaps Sportacus had left it that way deliberately. Robbie resisted the urge to sit next to him and shook out a blanket instead, tucking it around Sportacus fussily. Not that Robbie objected to physical contact but…he wasn't…good…with judging emotional cues, he was no expert in comfort. Some latent instinct told him that if he allowed it, Sportacus might just curl up with him and go to sleep. Not that that was a bad thing, and yet…

Let him drink his tea first and maybe then he could explain why he was lurking around Robbie's home at far too early in the morning. 

Neither of them spoke. The sound of rushing water gurgling through the drains still echoed through the room. Sportacus sipped his tea and didn't wrinkle his nose or collapse into a coma, so at least Robbie managed that properly. Some color returned to his pale cheeks and the purplish cast to his lips faded back to a normal pink. Robbie sipped his coffee and stood, waiting, physically still and mentally a dithering mess trying to decide if he was doing the right thing. What had _happened_?

"I had a bad dream," so softly. A bare whisper and for a moment Robbie wasn't even sure he'd heard it.

"A bad dream?" Robbie repeated and Sportacus gave him slow nod. Robbie tried for a smile, "I wouldn't have thought you'd have bad dreams, I thought all your dreams would be football games and winning trophies."

His heart sank as Sportacus curled tighter in the chair. He looked tired and miserable and smaller than he could possibly be. "Everyone has bad dreams, Robbie. Everyone has something they are afraid of."

Robbie set aside his coffee, crouching down in front of the chair and taking his hand. "What are you afraid of?"

Sportacus didn't look at him, eyes rooted to his cup. Robbie didn't press. His whisper was so quiet Robbie could barely hear it. "Failing."

"Failing?" Gently, he rubbed the back of Sportacus's hand with his thumb, felt his grip tighten.

Sportacus nodded slowly. "Last night I was called away because Ziggy thought it would be a good idea to sneak out his bedroom window to visit Stephanie. He fell and sprained his wrist." Sportacus shrugged a little. "I was there as soon as I could be, but still. I didn't catch him."

"That's not your fault," Robbie said, instantly, more than ready to argue that kids fell, it happened, and it was ridiculous to assume there would always be someone ready to catch them. 

Sportacus managed a little smile. "I do know that, actually. Intellectually," Sportacus tapped the side of his head, "I know that I can only do so much. They can't use me as an excuse to do dangerous things. I know that and they know that. My dreams, though," he sighed deeply. "They seem to think I can do better."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that. Sportacus set aside his own cup before he drew their joined hands up to his mouth, pressed a kiss against the tangle of their fingers, and sighed. "So yes, I had a bad dream and I woke up and all I could think was that I wanted to see you." A hint of amusement sparkled in his eyes, a touch of normalcy. "Even in the rain, I didn't think, I just came. I'm sorry if I—"

"You can always come here," Robbie interrupted fiercely. "Even if…even if we don't work out, you can come."

Sportacus smiled, that gentle, soft smile that was becoming an addiction, what wouldn't Robbie say, do, just to see that smile. "I've never had someone I could go to before on nights like this. Not since I was a child." He licked his lips and it made Robbie want to lean in, taste chamomile in a way that did not involve a cup. "Robbie, you can be a very sweet man." 

"I'm not," Robbie said hoarsely. He had to say it, couldn't try to hide it. He never wanted Sportacus to wake up one morning and realize it had been true all along. "I never have been."

Sportacus shook his head. "No. You tell yourself that but I know better."

Robbie blew out a sharp breath, torn between the urge to lean in and to pull away, to kiss or to flee. "I know I told you that I love you but you actually aren't what I expected."

To his surprise, Sportacus flinched and started to pull his hand away. It was automatic to hold on, to reach out with other hand. "Wait, I didn't mean—"

"I know," Sportacus said and the quiet unhappiness in his voice made Robbie swallow against a growing thickness in his throat, his heart rising up, "It's just…sometimes, when you help people, they are so grateful that they think they know you. They confuse gratitude with friendship and love. And then when you aren't what they think." Sportacus shrugged a little. "They get upset or angry. I'm not perfect Robbie, I don't pretend to be, but sometimes people think I am and learning the truth is difficult for them."

Robbie had an unpleasant thought that maybe Sportacus had had someone get upset or angry with him in the past. Not a week ago, he wouldn't have considered seeing Sportacus like this; sitting in his chair dwarfed in his pajamas, his hair in damp ringlets and looking lost and vulnerable, he'd never really considered Sportacus _could_ be vulnerable and he would have been so utterly wrong. If Sportacus knew better about him, then he knew better about Sportacus, hadn't even realize how well he knew. 

Sportacus was so much…more than he'd ever thought. Generous in ways Robbie hadn't known existed, thoughtful and kind, offering so much of himself and…and he had been so gentle with Robbie's heart. Even knowing he didn't feel the same yet, taking such care not to break it. It was upsetting to consider perhaps someone else hadn't done the same with Sportacus. 

He realized he'd been sitting quietly too long when Sportacus started to draw away from him and his face, always an open window, was closing off, "I...I can leave. If you want, I can--" 

"Why would I ever want you to leave? Didn't I just get finished telling you that you can always come here?" Robbie said, hoarsely, and it was all right, it was. Nighttime was meant for confessions. "If you aren't what I expected it's because you are so much more than I ever hoped."

Ah, and enough of waiting, he couldn't stay away anymore, not when Sportacus's eyes went suspiciously damp and they were both too tired and too awake. Robbie shifted up and eased into the chair, pulling Sportacus into his arms. Sportacus all but lunged into them, clinging almost desperately and Robbie let him, regretted not doing this sooner, but well, he was here now. Tucked Sportacus's head beneath his chin and pressed kisses into his damp hair and just held him. 

"I still don't know if I love you," Sportacus confessed, but he was warm and in Robbie's arms and the words were muffled into Robbie's shirt. 

Robbie hushed him, rubbing a soothing hand down his back. "That's fine. I'm not in any rush. You'll figure it out."

_And I can't stop loving you so much more._

-tbc-


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good barista is hard to find.

* * *

The regular barista was washing down tables when Robbie walked in to the Lazy Beanery. She was young, somewhere around teenager or early twenties, Robbie was terrible at judging ages. Her long black hair was in neat, thin braids and she had on a clean orange apron with the coffee shop logo emblazoned on it. Robbie thought she was the older sister of one of those brats Sportacus was always spending time with although which one was beyond him. She looked up at the jangle of the door bell and smiled when she saw it was him. 

"Hi Robbie, good afternoon," she said brightly. "Or is it morning, it's hard to say with you."

"Good afternoon," he said with dignity. He could, occasionally, keep normal hours. 

She slipped back behind the counter, pausing to give her hands a quick wash. "Did Sportacus like the tea you got for him?"

Robbie automatically started to say yes and then stopped. "What makes you think it was for him?"

"Hmm, well, let me think," the barista tapped a finger against her cheek. "A few days ago, Sportacus comes in and asks what your favorite drink is, really loudly, by the way, and he did at least one back flip while he was in here." She gestured around the tiny shop, full of tables and wrought iron shelves covered in delicate cups and saucers. Robbie winced and nodded in wry sympathy. "I think it's better for the whole town if he stays away from the caffeine. A couple days later he comes in for a frappuccino which I don't need to tell you is full of sugar, also something he should stay away from for the good of us all. Then yesterday you came in looking for 'healthy tea'," she made little air quotes with her fingers. "Add in the fact that Ms. Busybody had been telling everyone how you two are going around having picnics and holding hands. Wow, it's a real mystery."

"I don't pay extra for the sass," Robbie muttered. 

She grinned, "Good, because you couldn't afford it."

"And I could have gotten the tea for myself! Maybe I'm trying to be healthy," Robbie managed to say it without gagging but it was a close thing. 

"Oh, really?" she raised an eyebrow. "So you want tea today, then?"

"Great gods, no," Robbie shuddered. "I want my regular."

She smirked. "Coming up."

Sass aside, Robbie could appreciate the efficiency of a good barista. Making good coffee was a skill that should not be overlooked. Little Miss Sass didn't even have to ask Robbie what size he wanted or how many pumps of caramel, and she dropped in an extra shot of espresso without even glancing his way.

"You know," she called over the sound of frothing milk. "I think you two are cute together."

"I didn't ask," Robbie said absently, perusing the selection of scones. "And we've barely even started seeing each other."

"You'll be good for him."

"Me?" He almost choked. "I doubt anyone would use the word good to describe me in anything."

"Robbie," To his surprise, she hesitated, biting her lower lip. "Look, I don't know you that well. We aren't really friends. But you buy a venti caramel macchiato here every day, sometimes twice a day. 3.75. You're here often enough that you go through at least one of our punch cards a week. And every time you put your change in the tip jar." Carefully, she added a swirl of whipped cream to his cup, a tower of fluffy white. "No bad person tips 1.25 every day."

She leaned in conspiratorially and Robbie bent in enough for her to whisper, "And let me tell you, at no point when he's gotten you coffee has he tried to sneak you decaf." She nodded solemnly. "There's a keeper right there."

It had never even occurred to Robbie that Sportacus might try to deceive him on caffeine. The very idea was too evil to consider.

The barista rang him up on the register, 3.75, same as always. One venti caramel macchiato, extra hot, extra shot, extra whip, every day. Sometimes twice. 

This morning he'd woken up to Sportacus still sleeping against him. His head had been pillowed on Robbie's chest, the wild tousle of his hair close enough that Robbie could tip his head down and smell the clean, sweet scent of whatever it was he used for shampoo. They'd been tangled together from their arms down, cramped into Robbie's chair and Robbie had lain awake for too long, still achingly tired but not wanting to sleep through a moment of this. When Sportacus had finally woken, blinking up at Robbie with pale blue eyes, his smile had been meltingly fond, sleepy and sweetly enchanting. 

"Can I get a green tea, too?" Robbie blurted.

The smile that barista gave him was a heck of a lot less fond and more of a smirk, but that was fine by Robbie. He'd leave those sorts of smiles for Sportacus. "Would you like that to go?"

"You aren't funny," Robbie scowled, and ignored her laugh as she made him a second cup. 

He tucked three dollars into the jar before picking up his cups, being very careful not to confuse them. No amount of affection was worth a mouthful of that hot leaf juice.

"Teach your boy how to tip like you do," the barista called after him. "Last time he only left a quarter!"

"He's still learning," Robbie sighed and the bell jangled as he went through the door. 

It didn't take long to find Sportacus. He was in the park with the throng of children, all of them playing a rousing game of soccer. Really, it was exhausting to watch and Robbie sat down on a nearby bench to do just that. Exhausting, yes, but he'd always take the opportunity to watch Sportacus do…well, what he did best. The view was well worth his time.

Robbie sipped at his coffee and he saw the very moment Sportacus noticed him. His smile, already wide with laughter, turned softer, warmer. He said something to the kids, holding up his hands in a mock 'T,' and jogged over to Robbie.

"Good afternoon!" Sportacus said brightly. 

"Hi," Robbie said, softly and held up the extra cup. "I got you tea, if you want it."

"In a minute," Sportacus said, eyes sliding from the cup and back to Robbie. He ducked his head, one broad hand cupping Robbie's cheek, and stole a lingering kiss, ignoring the Greek chorus behind him and their different varieties of 'ewwwwwww'. 

Sportacus drew away slowly, licking his lips. "Sweet," he murmured. The children were getting louder with their protests and he glanced at them. "Hold my tea? I'll be back in a few minutes."

 _Always_ , Robbie didn't say. He only sipped his own coffee, watching Sportacus jog back to the children and share out a few friendly hair tousles and playful shoves with the lot of them. 

"If I stay, that'll be eight dates," Robbie called out impulsively. Sportacus laughed, even as he passed the soccer ball off to Pinkie, who managed to catch it at the same time she rolled her eyes. 

"I'll give you a half," Sportacus called back, "And no more."

"Seven and a half it is," Robbie agreed with a smirk. He sat and held the tea cup, drank his own coffee and watched them all play. 

Hey, it was seven and a half more dates than he'd ever hoped to get. Robbie was more than willing to take it. 

-tbc-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot story, y'all, what happened??
> 
> I suspect if it goes on for much longer, the rating is going to change to Mature. Any thoughts on that? Yays or nays?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie didn't ask anyone for commentary on his love life.

* * *

Robbie wasn't precisely an artist and he didn't pretend to be, either, not like _some_ people. Schematics he could manage with ease and costume design was something like art, he supposed, but where he could measure cloth and cables in his sleep, he had no skill in drawing faces or bodies. He knew where things went and how they went there, and that was his limit. 

So he had no idea why he was lazily sketching out a new costume that wasn't for him, half of his attention on his pencil and the other drifting back to the ongoing soccer game. It was difficult to tell the score or if they were even keeping score, not that Robbie cared in the slightest. His sole focus was the man in blue, watching with hooded eyes as he bounced the ball around with ease. It was almost like a dance, the shift of his feet and body. Certainly worth the effort watching, at least.

Idly, Robbie sketched, wishing absently for colored pencils. Sportacus would probably look good in any color, even a godforsaken mustard yellow, but blue obviously loved him and he looked best in it. He wasn't about to pretend to himself that he was drawing anything else but Sportacus, and honestly, he wore the same thing every day! Everyone needed a new outfit once in a while--

Robbie froze as someone sat next to him. He gave the intruder a sideways look, flipping shut his notebook and tucking it away. One of the children, Stingy, he thought, was sitting next to him, his perpetual scowl on his face. Between them sat both of the cups from the coffee shop and Robbie made no move to change that.

The child sniffed, disdainfully. "We were supposed to play baseball, but Ziggy sprained his wrist so we're playing soccer today."

Now that he looked, Robbie could see one of the children had their arm in a brightly colored sling. It didn't seem to be hindering him, since soccer was all about the feet. "You…don't like soccer?" Robbie ventured. It seemed like something Sportacus would want him to do.

Stingy sighed as though Robbie had personally offended him, "There's nothing wrong with soccer but we were going to play baseball with _my_ ball."

Right. "Well, maybe next time," Robbie muttered in what he hoped held a great wealth of implied _go away_. 

He chalked up another failure to add to his list because Stingy didn't so much as twitch an eyelash. Instead, he announced in a disgusted voice, "You don't seem like a very good boyfriend."

Not at all where Robbie had expected this conversation to go and he choked for a moment before sputtering out an offended, "What?"

Stingy shrugged. "If Sportacus were _my_ boyfriend, I'd do something he likes to do."

"What makes you think I don't?" Robbie snapped. Was this really happening? Maybe he'd fallen asleep on the bench and this was a particularly horrible and embarrassing nightmare where a child scolded him about his dating skills. 

Stingy gave him an impressively withering look. "I pay attention. Sportacus talks about you all the time now. We all know about the movie nights and we saw the picnic."

"He liked the picnic!" Good lord, was he defending himself to this child? And doing a terrible job at it from Stingy's brutally unimpressed expression. 

"He _planned_ the picnic, what have you done for him?"

"I…" What had he done for Sportacus? A thick sort of panic was wedging itself into Robbie's throat. "I'm not good at any of the things Sportacus likes," Robbie admitted and his shame was complete. 

"Hmm, I guess that is a problem," Stingy said unhelpfully. 

"Why are any of you interested in what we're doing anyway?" It sounded terribly like a whine and Robbie pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will back a little self-control.

"Are you kidding?" Stingy snorted, "You and Sportacus are like, our own celebrity couple! Pixel helped Ms. Busybody start a blog on it three days ago. You should check it out, there're a few nice pictures."

"Pictures?" Robbie said weakly.

"Nice ones," Stingy nodded. "You're both smiling."

"What are you two talking about?" They looked up in unison as Sportacus landed in front of them. He was flushed and smiling, but Robbie had gotten to know him a little better in the past week. That was his helpful but suspicious voice. Stingy seemed to realize it too and his expression relaxed into something closer to cherubic. Little brat, Robbie would have to keep an eye on this one, he'd always seemed to be one of the clever ones. 

"Nothing," they chorused. 

Sportacus nodded slowly. "Stingy, why don't you get back into the game?"

"Sure," he said brightly. He hopped up and ran back to the other children without so much as a backwards glance and leaving Robbie to deal with a Sportacus who knew something was up. Thanks, kid. 

Sportacus sat down next to him on the bench. "I'll take my tea now." It was probably lukewarm but Sportacus didn't seem to mind. He sprawled back on the bench because of course he couldn't sit like a normal person. His eyes cut sideways, giving Robbie a measuring look. Robbie only saw it because he was looking back. Deliberately, Sportacus reached over and wrapped his fingers around Robbie's wrist. His hand was warm. "Everything is okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be okay?"

"Because you look upset," Sportacus said bluntly. He tapped a finger on the lid of his cup, rhythmless and impatient. "Stingy is a good kid but he can be…a little thoughtless."

"He's a child," Robbie said dismissively.

"Yes, and I know how children can be," Sportacus sounded a little sour and Robbie blinked at him. "You aren't the only person they've been talking to."

"Why, are they checking to see if you've lost your mind?" Robbie sighed. 

Sportacus looked a little wounded. "Of course not. Mostly, they've wanted me to persuade you to play more games so we can have even teams."

"Yeah, that's not happening."

"I would never," Sportacus said solemnly. He shifted to sit sideways on the bench, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged. "Of course, if you _wanted_ to play—" He broke off, laughing, when Robbie shoved him. "All right, all right."

The tilt of his head was as obvious as it could be; Sportacus was smiling up at him invitingly, all but pouting for a kiss. 

In the distance, Robbie could hear the children playing. Their shouts and laughter had seemed a mile away not that long ago. Now Robbie felt hyper aware of them, wondering if they were watching. No one else was in sight, the other denizens of Lazytown contented to stay in their homes or at work, but who was to say who was watching or apparently taking pictures. Robbie watched the town all the time and Sportacus did as well, through his telescope. It was more than a little uncomfortable to think others did the same. 

That sweet, fond smile faltered, just a little, and Robbie sighed inwardly. To hell with it.

Robbie leaned in and took a soft, quick kiss, hesitated, and then took another, breathing in sharply as Sportacus responded with enthusiasm. He tasted like that horrible tea, wonderful and awful, and probably half the town was watching and scribbling out appraisals about their technique on blogs with too many emojis.

A last, lingering press of lips and Sportacus leaned away with a sigh, roses of color blooming in his cheeks. "You are very distracting."

Distracting. It was a beautiful, sunny day, with puffy white clouds dotting the blue sky and children playing a rousing game of soccer, seemingly oblivious to their hero necking with the local villain under an uninterested tree. Everything about the day should have been screaming to Sportacus to come play and _Robbie_ was a distraction. 

"Did you want to—do something tonight?" Robbie blurted.

Robbie wondered if he'd ever stop being charmed at the way Sportacus lit up in delight. "Of course! What do you want to do?"

"It's a surprise," Robbie hedged, mind already racing. 

"Even better," Sportacus grinned. He flipped up into a handstand on the back of the bench and landed lightly on his feet. "I'll meet you at your place?"

"Tonight," Robbie agreed, watching as Sportacus darted away and back to the game. He had to swallow hard, his mouth filled with spit in something like fear, but it was fine, he could do this. He could be the good boyfriend and never mind what any damn kids thought of it. 

Now Robbie just had to figure out what they were going to do.

-tbc-


End file.
